


So Much to Offer

by IcyPanther



Series: If You Close Your Eyes Then it Never Happened [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Chases, Gen, Langst, Please read full warnings, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Kissing, Sex Slave, Slave Trade, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 01:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14148540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: "I suppose though I should see what we're working with, hm?" the slaver mused. "A pretty face is only part of the package after all." His dark eyes met Lance's and he shivered at the absolute depravity that stared back at him. "Let's see what you have to offer." / While trying to save his dying team, Lance is captured and sold into the slave trade. Time is running out... for everyone.





	So Much to Offer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaspurrlock (stilesstilerstyle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilesstilerstyle/gifts).



> **Timeline notes:** Set during season four following episode one (Keith joining the Blade) but prior to episode two (Pidge finding Matt) although in the grand scheme of things it really has no impact on this story.
> 
>  **Warning notes:** Non-consensual sexual touching, grabbing, penetration and kissing. Sex slave trade. Nothing particularly violent and no technical rape, but rating this M and marking it with such a warning due to the actively written sexual content and penetration. Please proceed with that in mind. Also note this is **not** smut or anything of that kind (more of an anti-warning for some of you in that case ;p).

 

 

Lance was being followed.

He could feel eyes on him, tracing his steps as he hurried through silent streets. Who they belonged to though he did not know and he really, really didn't want to find out.

He also couldn't return to the castle until he'd ducked them. Right now the entire team was laid out sick – he clutched the parcel of medicine tighter that had been the reason for this late-night run into an unknown, Galra-controlled city – and if he brought the Galrans to their literal front door when they couldn't fight?

No. Not happening.

Every time he tried to catch a glimpse of his follower there was nothing there, but he knew he wasn't imagining things. He'd heard the scuff of a footstep that didn't match his, could sense the eyes boring into his back.

He wished he had his bayard.

That thought kept echoing as he abruptly changed direction, swinging down a city block of closed up storefronts on the rather modernized planet of Hackl. But the bayard only dissolved in the armor and the armor was a giveaway that he was not a mere visitor. No one knew his face so it was better to go as incognito as possible and that meant traveling lightly.

He was regretting that so, so much right now.

Lance tugged his jacket hood further down his forehead as though that was the problem. He could still feel the eyes looking at him and he ducked down another side street, quickening his pace and holding the medicine tighter.

Lance was immune to the illness the rest of his team had somehow caught (apparently ingested saliva from a mouse was the vaccine and he supposed that kiss from Platt instead of Allura had been fate). They were suffering high fevers that would eventually overheat their bodies so much it would cook their insides. Coran had been particularly descriptive of that part in his delirium and Lance had nearly pulled a Hunk.

Pidge had been hit particularly hard and Lance's heart clenched at the thought of her lying limp where he'd placed her on the lounge couch, burning up with fever. She'd called him Matt in her confusion and his heart had just about broken then and there.

Coran had lasted the longest, able to steer the castle to the planet with the last of his stamina, and had filled Lance in on all he knew about the illness before he'd collapsed on the bridge and Lance had dragged him to the lounge where he'd set everyone up in a makeshift clinic even though there was little he could do.

Coran estimated they had maybe fifteen varga, Pidge less, before their internal temperatures became fatal. But it would be fine. They'd landed on a modernized planet that would have the medicine with plenty of time to spare. Still, Lance had not wasted any time. He'd jogged the several mile trip into the city, located a medical clinic and spent a small fortune for the outside business hours purchase. All had been going just fine until he'd felt the eyes on him when he left the clinic and they had been following him since.

His first thought was of course Galra. But he imagined they would have attacked by now. Stealth really wasn't their thing. Lotor, maybe? But no. There was no way the prince would be on such a planet as the Paladins hadn't even known they were going to be here.

Could it be as simple as a pickpocket? Lance nearly laughed but stifled it as he made another sharp turn. Here he was, a Paladin of Voltron, scared out of his wits by a potential mugger. Maybe he should stop and confront them and just settle it as clearly – another scuff sounding further behind him – he was doing a terrible job of losing them.

Lance didn't want to fight. He just wanted to get out of here and get this medicine to his dying friends. They could have the money.

And if it wasn't a pickpocket but actually the Galra… well, he'd cross that bridge if it came to it.

Squaring his shoulders Lance stopped and turned around.

An empty street stared back.

"I know you're there," he called out, voice stronger than he felt. "Come out."

A shadow detached itself from a building several back and Lance tensed. He'd been right.

"Here," he dug his hand into the jacket pocket and pulled out the bills he had left, keeping his eyes trained on the hooded figure. "Take it."

"I don't want your money."

The words were both loud and soft, a strange, slippery tone. Lance's stomach clenched for reasons he could not explain.

"Look, man, that's all I've got." Lance took a step back. If he were to turn around and full out sprint maybe he could get away. The hair on the back of his neck was prickling with unease and instinct was screaming to get out of there  _now._

"Oh, I disagree. I know you have much more to offer."

"If this is a fortune teller thing, let me tell you, you have that aura down pat," Lance shot back, mouth running on autopilot as he continued to move away. There was an alleyway to his right that maybe he could take.

The figure stopped then and Lance could make out a pair of glowing green eyes from beneath the hood. "It is not a fortune teller thing," and there was a note of amusement now in the slick voice. "Think of it as something more… fun."

Lance's eyes widened as there were suddenly more hooded figures seeming to materialize out of the shadows all down the street, each having a matching pair of glowing green eyes. Each was holding a length of rope in dark, scaled hands and Lance's was realizing this was much, much more than a mugging.

"Go ahead and run, boy" the lead figure said, a flicker of a long, forked tongue highlighted by a street lamp. "We do so enjoy a chase."

Lance's heart leapt into his throat. Chase? What?

What was this?

The figure's voice lowered. "Get him."

As one the cloaked figures surged forward and Lance pivoted on his heel and sprinted for the alley he'd picked out, blood pounding in his ears as his feet pounded the pavement.

The alley branched off and Lance flew down the second corridor, his own hood having flown back at this point and, as he risked a look behind him, so had the creatures chasing him, revealing slender, tapered faces almost like a snake.

Lance ran faster, jumping over a protruding pipe, and burst out of the alley back onto a street, but like the rest of the city it was dark and quiet.

He picked another direction, through a small park, hopelessly lost but at this point not really caring so long as he could get away.

His breath was starting to come in harsh pants now and a stitch was forming in his side, reminding him he'd jogged a few miles into town and hadn't hydrated at all from that. But every time he tried to stop to catch his breath they were there, glowing green eyes and scaled hands and silent as the grave.

All except for their apparent leader.

"Run, run, little boy," his voice slithered, somehow seeming to echo from everywhere. "There's nowhere for you to go."

Lance disagreed and took off down another street, clutching at his side. He ducked into another alley, jumped over a protruding pipe and–

Wait.

He came to a stumbling stop, eyes widening in horror.

That was the same pipe.

But.

What.

 _How_?

He didn't have time to figure it out as the aliens were back and closing in and he forced exhausted feet back into a run.

But no matter where he turned, no matter what direction he took, everything was the same. Same park. Same pipe. Same alley.

 _Dios_ what was this?

On the next pass through Lance didn't quite clear the pipe, exhausted limbs dragging and with a pained yelp he hit the ground, medicine bouncing to land in front of him. He had barely scrambled to his knees when he felt rough hands grab at his shoulders and something plowed into his back, driving him back down.

"N-no!" he gasped, kicking out but hitting nothing. "No! Let me go!"

His arms were being wrenched behind him now, claws digging into his jacket and coarse rope digging into his wrists. He flailed his legs out again but there was nothing there to hit and his movements became more wild as somehow he still felt his feet grabbed and ankles pulled together.

"St-stop!" he choked out, the rope tightening to painful on his legs. "No! Let me–"

His word were cut off as somehow a rope was shoved inside his mouth even though _there was no one there._ He screamed against it, feeling the fibers cut into the corners as it was yanked cruelly back behind his head.

No. No no no no no.

Within the minute he was fully bound, lying alone in the dark alley. His eyes darted every which way, shrunken pinpricks of fear, and his heart felt like it was about to burst from his chest.

"You were great fun to chase."

Lance choked on his next breath as the alien's voice echoed about although he couldn't see him. A moment later there was a shimmer in the darkness and the figure appeared, forked tongue flickering into a smile as he crouched down next to Lance's head.

"But I told you," and Lance jerked in revulsion as the tongue darted inside his ear, "there was nowhere for you to run. Not after you became caught in my spell."

The snake shifted back in front of him and grabbed Lance's chin in its clawed hands, dragging it upward. Lance found himself staring into the mesmerizing glowing green orbs inches from his face, feeling an almost hypnotic pull.

Spell. Well, he had a feeling he knew how he'd been caught.

Weakly he tried to turn his head but the alien's grasp was firm and he chuckled, a dark, slimy sound.

"I told you," he whispered, words beginning to fade and no matter how hard Lance tried he could feel his eyes closing, darkness creeping in, even as panic sped up his heart. A forked tongue slithered down the side of his face. "You have so much more to offer."

And the darkness swallowed him whole.

xxx

Lance came to sputtering as water flooded his nose and mouth, coughing to expel it before he choked while his foggy brain tried to figure out  _why_ he was nearly drowning.

"'e's awake!" came a bellow so loud that Lance flinched back. Or, well, he would have if he had been capable of movement. His eyes flew open at that and he came face to face with one of the ugliest faces he had ever seen; sort of a cross between a rock, a bulldog with an overbite and a tree.

"Oi, lookie at them bluesies," the rock alien said and a large, rough hand grabbed at Lance's chin, tilting his head downwards as Lance was strung up and dangling by his arms, which now that he was awake were screaming at him painfully. He stretched his feet down but he heard only the dullest clink of a chain at the movement and no floor to be found. Lance groaned but the sound was completely muffled by the hand holding his face.

What was going on?

Where was he?

There was the sound of a thwack and the alien's hand dropped away with a yelp.

"Don't touch the merchandise!" snarled a different, more refined voice. "You imbecile." The sound of another dull slap. "Get out of here before I sell you too."

Merchandise? What was going on?

Where was he?

He remembered glowing green eyes and… and…

Memories hit like a tidal wave. Oh no. Oh  _Dios no._  He'd been kidnapped when getting medicine and–

Medicine.

His team. His  _family._

 _Dios,_ how long had it been? One varga? Ten? Were they even still alive? A soft whine was torn from him and he struggled fruitlessly on the chains holding him tight.

He needed to get out of here.

He needed to get out of here  _now._

A new alien stepped into Lance's sight, almost human features although he was a pale blue and his ears looked resembled a bat's perched along black hair that was pulled back in a long ponytail. Slitted dark eyes met his and a fanged mouth curled up into a smile. "Well, well, you do have rather beautiful eyes."

"Who are you?" Lance demanded with more bravado than he felt. "Where am I?"

The alien ignored him, reaching a hand forward and also grabbing hold of Lance's chin.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, gnashing his teeth for all the good it did. "Let me go!"

"So noisy," came a deep sigh. "Silence."

Lance felt a sharp stinging vibration around his neck and he yelped at the sudden pain.

Only he made no actual sound.

What. The. Hell?

"I've never seen anything quite like you," the alien continued, one slender hand tracing up Lance's face now and cupping his cheek while the other went higher and rubbed against his ear. Lance shivered and tried to jerk his head away to no avail. "So… round. A possible Galran half-breed, perhaps?"

His head was turned carefully and the alien hummed. Lance took the moment for all it was worth to see his surroundings, although there wasn't much to them. He was in a small room, walls colored a deep red. A paneled wood door was across the way and yellow lights both warmed and brightened the space while a small padded stool sat in front of a low dresser.

If it hadn't been for the apparent chains hanging him up from the ceiling and securing his feet to the floor Lance almost might have said it was cozy.

"I think I'll go with an exotic species," the man continued. "My clients do certainly love that element. And you have such pretty coloring."

Merchandise? Exotic? Clients?

Pieces were starting to click into place but Lance stubbornly refused to believe them.

No.

Absolutely not.

"I suppose though I should see what we're working with, hm? A pretty face is only part of the package after all."

Those dark eyes met Lance's again and Lance could not help the full body shudder that ran through him at the absolute depravity that stared back up at him.

"Oh, I think I will enjoy this very, very much," he whispered, thumb rubbing against Lance's high cheekbone and other hand coming up from behind to grip tightly in Lance's hair, making his eyes reflexively water as it was twisted.

And without any warning he pressed his lips flush against Lance's.

Lance jerked his head back but there was nowhere to go, the hand holding his head stationary and the kiss pressing him against it.

He gasped as fangs nipped at his lower lip and before he could even register what was happening a thick, long tongue was jamming itself inside. He gagged around it before he was able to clamp his teeth down, pining the wriggling, rancid tasting thing.

The man's strangled scream was well worth it and the hand holding his hair immediately let go and Lance practically spat out the bloodied tongue, gasping for air and stomach revolting at what had happened.

He'd just…

That alien had just...

His head snapped suddenly to the right as the alien backhanded him and he bit his own tongue, tasting metallic copper mix with the taste of spoiled meat.

And then real pain.

Lance screamed, throwing his head back as his entire neck seemed to light on fire, but other than the slight clinking of the chains as his body spasmed there was no sound to show his agony.

It let off what felt like hours later but was probably only a minute and when it finally stopped Lance sagged weakly in his restraints, trembling with the aftershocks.

"That was very naughty." The blue hand was back and gripping his chin and forcing Lance's head up. "Very. However," a smirk pulled up plumped lips. " Feisty. I like your spirit. Let's try again, hmm?"

Again?

No.

Please no.

But the hand was already twining in his hair once more and unwanted lips were moving over his own. This time though Lance was prepared and was keeping his own firmly sealed in a straight line.

It was all for nothing though as the man bit at his lower lip again, this time not a playful nip but an actual bite, and Lance couldn't help but cry out. The tongue back again, this time stretching all the way to the back of his throat and Lance choked.

He couldn't get his jaw to work as the alien ravaged the inside of his mouth, filling it completely and initiating his gag reflex that had nowhere to go as all it could do was retch on the monstrous tongue.

The man was moaning now and, both hands fisted in the back of Lance's hair and pressing their mouths together to the point it hurt. Black spots were dancing in his vision and he was growing lightheaded as he his air supply dwindled.

Asphyxiation by kissing. Not the way he thought he'd go.

Just when Lance thought he was actually going to pass out the alien removed himself and Lance shuddered in a breath and then another, concentrating solely on that action, eyes squeezed tightly shut so he didn't have to see.

He didn't want to focus on anything else.

This could not be happening.

The hand came back and drew his chin up, gentle now as a thumb brushed against his lower, swollen lip. Lance flinched back and the alien chuckled. "There, much better. Now…" The sound of metal drawing on a sheath had Lance's eyes flying open in alarm to be greeted with a sharp knife hovering in front of him.

The flat of the blade was placed against his cheek and Lance shivered as it was dragged alongside it. "It's time to see what else you have to offer."

The knife lifted off but there was no relief to be found as it traveled down and Lance could feel it hook on the curve of his shirt.

"Hold still, please," came the request. "I do try to avoid damaging the product before the reveal."

And Lance had no choice but to acknowledge his situation now.

This wasn't a ransom kidnapping for the Paladins or a prelude to an interrogation with the Galrans.

Nope. He pretty sure he had somehow gone and found himself in some type of slavery ring. And… based on what had already happened, a flush of shame stealing across his cheeks, he had an even worse feeling that this wasn't just a slave trade.

It was a sex slave trade.

He had to get out of here.

There was the sound of ripping a second later and then the deigned slaver's hands were back, grabbing the tear the knife had made and splitting the rest of Lance's shirt down the middle. Cooler air touched upon now bare skin and he couldn't stop the resulting shiver.

It turned into a shudder as blue hands slipped under the parted fabric and came to rest on either side of his chest.

No.

Oh hell no.

Anger returned and Lance welcomed it over the sick fear taking root in his stomach. He tried to bring his legs up to knee the asshole, but they were only wrenched painfully for his efforts and the man took no notice. His arms reminded him how much they  _hurt_ and he swallowed back his silent whimper.

"Hm," he murmured, hands trailing now down Lance's sides and he jolted as they stopped on the swell right before his hips and thumbs caressed in sick circles, the hot anger disappearing as quickly as it had arrived as cold fear took its place. "Slender. I prefer something with a tad more… substance," one hand pinched the skin just above his hip and Lance bucked in surprise and pain, "but it is a pleasing form. Many of my buyers will enjoy it. This though… this is interesting."

A wandering hand poked a finger into his navel and if he wasn't so absolutely terrified Lance might have found it amusing that apparently belly buttons could be classified as interesting. He winced as the finger poked harder.

"I see it does not go anywhere," the alien mused aloud. "A characteristic of your species?"

His fascination was short lived and Lance wished it had lasted longer as cool hands were back and tracing over his taut stomach now and then stretching back higher, coming to rest on his chest.

Lance bared his teeth and snarled as the hands splayed themselves out, but it turned into a silent yelp as he found his skin pinched once more and his dark right nipple was twisted.

"Now these I am familiar with," and the alien twisted harder, "although typically I see them on females."

An amused smirk crossed the slaver's face. "I had pegged you as male but it looks like a more… thorough check will be required."

Lance paled and the man laughed. "Please, do not be so alarmed. All merchandise must be properly inspected before it hits the floor." He leaned forward, lips right next to Lance's ear and whispered, "It's my favorite part of the job."

He drew backwards just as Lance made an attempt to bite at the large ear, teeth closing on air in one last desperate attempt to quell the fear that was sinking its claws into him.

He would not become some… some  _object._ He wouldn't give into this sick game.

If only he actually believed that, stomach clenching as the slaver grinned at him in sheer delight. "Still so feisty," the alien smirked. "But such violence is not permitted here."

There was a second of pause and then Lance felt lightning bolts wrap about his neck once more.

He screamed silently, twisting and writhing and feeling hot tears stream down his cheeks from the absolute agony.

 _Dios_ make it  _stop._

When it finally came to an end he couldn't even keep his head up, throat aching from screaming and body shuddering from the aftereffects as pain trickled through him.

He dimly became aware of a new sound then; a sharp sort of snip and he could feel cold metal pressing up along his arm.

His shirt and jacket were being cut off.

Lance knew in the grand scheme of what he found himself in he should absolutely not care this much about a jacket. Even if it was one of the only things he had from home. That reminded him of his family. Which made him think of his space family and the fact they were  _dying._

He renewed his struggles for all the good they did.

He had to get free. He had to.

They were going to  _die._ And it would be his fault.

But even that fear took a backseat to the primal, all-encompassing fear as he felt the scissors complete their final pass and his jacket and shirt were pulled off, leaving him completely bare. Foreign hands came back to light upon his chest before sliding up his arm, trailing across the skin and leaving a cold sickness in their wake.

They came to wrap around his right bicep, pulled harshly above his head and they squeezed. Lance yelled as agony flared in the spot on the abused muscle.

"This appears to be causing you some degree of pain," said the smooth voice. He did it again. Lance let out another silent wail.  _Dios,_ it felt like his arm was on fire.

He welcomed it.

The pain was so encompassing he  _couldn't_ think about anything else. He didn't want to think about anything else. That he failed. That his family was dying. That… he choked on a sob as one hand came over to caress his face, rubbing a thumb against his tears. That he was going to be… going to be…

He couldn't even say it in his own mind.

The hands slipped away and Lance kept his eyes tightly closed. He didn't want to see what was coming next.

Something slipped below his feet and the sudden  _relief_ on his body made him nearly topple sideways and he desperately wrapped his toes about whatever it was.

It was too small for him to stand properly on, his manacled feet nearly atop one another, but his body weight was no longer dangling from his arms.

"There now," and the hand came back to rub against his cheek. "That should be better. Tell me, is it better?" Lance kept his eyes closed and didn't acknowledge the question. Nails dug into his flesh then. "I said, is it better? I will take it away."

Lance hated that he inclined his head ever so.

"Excellent," the slaver purred. "You may keep it so long as you behave. I do not care about your comfort, but…" the hand patted his cheek. "I do not wish to damage the product any more than I must."

Lance tried to repress his next sob as the hands came back to cup his face.

"So many tears," the alien murmured. "Tell me, why are you crying? Speak."

That same sharp vibration shook through his neck and Lance's eyes flew back open in absolute surprise as he heard his own body make a sobbing sound.

He had his voice back.

"Pl-please," he managed, not caring about pride right now. This could be his one chance and he had to take it. To save them. "My f-family. They need–"

"Family?" A snort. "You no longer have one."

"Please," he tried again. "They need m-medicine. They're dying."

"A pity. But they are not your concern anymore." The blue hand patted his cheek.

" _Please,"_ Lance begged. "I'll… I'll come b-back." What was he saying?  _Dios,_ what was he saying? He plowed on. "Just let me s-save them. Please."

The slaver laughed, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "Selflessness? I cannot say I have ever seen such a thing here. Your plea is quite touching."

Lance felt his heart stutter with faint hope.

"But alas, the only touching here is what I and the buyers do to you."

The words took a moment to sink in and Lance felt the blood drain from his face. "Wait, please, I–"

"Silence."

Whatever it was around his neck pulsated once more and Lance's words were lost.

No.

No.

He let out a wordless scream that only made the alien smile.

"It is time to get back to the inventory now," he said. "The auction will be starting in…" he glanced at his wrist where a holographic display seemed to be coded into his skin. "Just shy of an hour now and we must get you ready for the pre-show." He licked his lips with his thick tongue. "I have no doubts you will be my star this evening. But I suppose that does depend on what else you have to offer me."

The hands left his face then, languidly sliding along his neck, down his chest and then back to the swell of his hips where they paused at the waistband to Lance's jeans, thumbs brushing featherlight on the sensitive, taut flesh of his stomach.

And then they went for the button of his pants.

"This is a very strange material," the slaver observed as he tugged at the zipper while Lance tried to pull away, pressing his feet against the block but going nowhere. "So coarse."

No.  _Dios_ no.

No no no no no.

Long fingers dug themselves into the now loosened waistband and pulled.

Lance could do nothing as the jeans slid over his hips, then his thighs. His breath was coming in harsh, short pants as the slaver continued to drag them over down his legs before he let them fall to pool about his manacled ankles. '

"Just one piece left I see." The tone was teasing and those cold hands came back to rest on his hips, fingering the black elastic band of his boxer shorts.

Lance bucked against the finger that slid down the side, tracing a circle at the very top of his thigh.

A mixture of mortification and fear filled him as the man gripped the elastic in his hands. "Let us see what you are made of, hm?"

And with one sharp tug his last piece of clothing was stripped away, joining his pants around his ankles and Lance was left fully exposed.

He felt his face flame as the man leered down at him and licked his lips once more.

Oh  _Dios._

"Well, well," came an amused sounding smirk, "you are most definitely male indeed."

Lance gasped as the hands grabbed at him and then  _squeezed_. His breath turned into a silent choke.

Oh  _Dios._

Not this.

Please.

"I believe my assessment of a Galra-halfbreed may have some truth to it." The clinical words were a sharp contrast to the hand now rubbing along the length of him, nails raking against beyond sensitive flesh.

Lance thought he might be sick.

The grip tightened painfully and Lance felt himself being twisted in a way he was not supposed to go. He let out a silent wail and his feet scrambled to push away, but it only made the hand twist harder.

"A very decent size," the slaver continued. "Certain to pleasure many of my clients." A chuckle. "I know  _I_ would enjoy it. What do you say? I could test it out to make sure."

There was a pause and then something wet and rough was gliding along his length.

A tongue.

The alien was  _licking_ him.

 _Dios,_ please.

Fangs nipped at the base then and Lance  _screamed_ in equal pain and horror, which only seemed to excite the man more as he did it again.

 _Dios. Dios_ no. Please.  _Por favor._

Make it  _stop._

His silent prayer was answered for the moment as he felt the alien's head move away and the hand release him.

He let out a breathless sob.

"Beautiful," murmured the slaver. "However…" the tone changed to one of sharp delight. "Many of my clients prefer a more… backdoor entry, if you will. Let us see what you offer in that department."

It took a moment for the meaning to register but Lance felt his heart come to a halt when it did.

No.

He  _couldn't._

The alien was already moving behind him and out of Lance's line of sight. He jumped when hands came to rest on the backs of his thighs and a silent moan of distress whispered between his lips.

No.

 _Dios_ no.  _Please._ Not this.

Not…

Not…

"Let me see," the man thought aloud and sharp nails dug into Lance's flesh. "Yes, if I just grab here..."

Lance felt his thighs being pulled apart and he whimpered.

No.

"Ah. There it is."

One of the hands slipped upwards, pressing against his hole painfully.

"So small," came a confused murmur. The hand still gripping his thigh tightened. "Let's see if it gets bigger."

Lance was breathing hard now, acid tickling his throat and he could taste the salt from his tears.

No.

No.

N-

The slaver jammed his finger up and a moment later he was  _inside_ Lance.

"Nice and tight," the finger dug deeper and Lance arched backward as he felt a second join it, pain like nothing he had ever felt exploding from within while shame painted his cheeks as surely as his tears.

_Dios._

_Why?_

The fingers twisted then and Lance gasped as they pushed harder, deeper, as though seeking something.

Behind him the slaver grunted.

Lance felt himself being stretched even further as a third finger joined and he screamed.

They didn't  _fit._

He was going to  _break._

Break break break break bre–

And then they were gone, leaving him trembling and shaking and sobbing, feet having slipped off the support and hanging once more by only his arms.

His thigh was grabbed again but he was merely lifted slightly up and pushed forward so his feet found the block once more and then the hand patted his backside almost tenderly.

"You," the slaver said, breathless, "are going to make me quite rich. Absolutely  _perfect._ "

He moved away then, stepping into Lance's peripheral to the dresser against the wall and opening a drawer.

Lance dully watched him rummage through clothing, mind frozen and not yet wanting to process what had just happened.

His body twinged painfully as a reminder and he groaned low in his throat, shame and horror burning through him.

_Dios._

Oh  _Dios._

His stomach chose that moment to finally rebel and Lance barely managed to turn his head enough so the vomit splattered to the ground.

He stared at it.

The sound made the slaver turn and his nose wrinkled with disgust. He crossed the room to the wood-paneled door, opened it, and stuck his head out. He shouted out a command, a name, maybe, and a moment later the rock-alien was there, a bucket and mop in hand.

"Oi, lookie at 'em," the alien stopped dead in his tracks, eyes raking up and down Lance's naked form. Lance couldn't even find the energy to look away, merely hanging his head. " 'es so purty."

"Clean it up," came the sharp command. " _Then_ you may oil him. Make sure he shines."

The alien made a sound of delight and a wet mop crashed down a second later.

"Now, for you," and Lance felt more than heard the slaver come over to him and press something against his arm. Exhausted eyes blinked open to see a swatch of cloth being held up. "I do think red is your color. You will look absolutely  _stunning."_

The next few minutes passed in a hazy blur. The rock alien left the room with the dirty bucket to return with a small brown bottle and a glass of water. The water he forced Lance to sip and then spit out, flushing his mouth from the taste of vomit, and then drink the rest of it. The small brown bottle he dumped over Lance's shoulder and the sharp scent of body oil overtook the cleaning supplies.

Harsh, rough hands were there then, smearing it across Lance's chest and back, down his arms and being rubbed in with a vigor. Lance didn't even try to pull away.

He felt…

He felt dirty.

Used.

Broken.

He shuddered slightly as the alien's rocky hand rubbed it in against his hip.

Violated.

He'd been…

He'd been…

And worse?

He knew it wasn't over. He was being  _sold_ to someone who wanted to do that, do  _more._

And help was not coming.

It couldn't come because they were all  _dead._

He'd killed his family

It was his fault.

All of this was his fault.

HIs shoulders shook then with sobs.

"Dun cry nows," the rock alien said, bringing one rough finger up to rub at Lance's cheek. "Master dun like eet. Not purty."

Lance only sobbed harder.

He felt the chains holding him in the air being lowered then and his feet slipped from the block to touch down on actual ground. The chains were unhooked and the manacles undone and for the briefest moment he thought about kicking out, but he was still strung up and wasn't going anywhere.

It'd be useless.

Just like everything else he tried.

The rock hands were replaced then with the smooth cold ones of the slaver and Lance shook. They lifted up his right foot with a gentleness that belied the cruelty they carried and pulled the discarded clothing free and then Lance's foot was bent to go through a whisper of cloth. The process was repeated to his left.

"Where has that spark gone, hm?"

The question came as the hands pulled the cloth over Lance's legs. Pants, his brain dully supplied. The hands ghosted over his thighs, lingering for just a second before finally settling on his hips and he felt a tie pulled to secure them.

He found his chin being tipped up a moment later, dark eyes searching his. "Yours is not a spirit that breaks so easily," the slaver murmured and he bent forward, pressing his lips against Lance's in an almost chaste kiss. Lance barely blinked at it and the slaver shook his head. "You just need… the proper motivation. Let us see what makes your heart race again, hm?"

HIs arms were released then and they dropped limply at his sides. The slaver stepped back and tilted his head at the open door. "There. Go."

Lance blinked slowly.

What?

This was a trap.

This had to be a trap.

"Your freedom is right there," the alien smiled. "Go. Take it. If you manage to get out the door I will let you go. You can go save your little family."

And despite himself Lance felt his heart start beating again from where he'd locked it down.

Hope.

A truly dangerous thing.

He was completely unbound now. His arms were aching from the position they'd been forced into and as he shifted his weight he felt a sharp pulse through his lower half as never before abused flesh protested any additional movement.

The door was right there.

He didn't know how good the slaver's word really was but…

But he had to try.

He had to get out of here.

He had to save his family.

Lance tensed.

And then he moved.

He kicked out with his right foot, sending the block he'd been standing on flying right at the slaver, who looked genuinely surprised at the action. Lance didn't wait around to see if it connected, pivoting on bare feet and sprinting the few yards to the beckoning door.

One foot crossed the threshold–

And then he slammed into the bulk of the rock-alien who was coming back in.

Lance rebounded off the solid form, tumbling to the ground and  _pain_ shot through him as he landed on his rear end.

The slaver was there then, wrenching Lance's arms behind his back and Lance let out a silent yell, kicking his feet out but the other alien caught them easily in his large grip and a set of manacles was attached before Lance could blink.

No.

No!

"So close," whispered the blue-skinned alien, words ghosting past Lance's ear. "But not quite."

Lance was wrenched to standing a moment later. One of his arms was released and he made to swing it, but the rock alien caught it with ease. "No violence," he admonished.

Lance felt like crying again.

His arms were forced through a small red sleeveless vest that could barely be considered clothing, and his wrists then shackled behind his back. A golden chain appeared then in his vision and it was clipped to what he had finally decided must be some type of shock collar about his neck, and the slaver tugged on the end of it.

"Come along now," he said, pulling harder when Lance tried to brace his feet. "It's time for you to make your debut."

Humiliation was making a return as Lance was led like an animal from the room, stumbling, clanking feet barely under him and knowing if he fell he'd just be dragged.

Part of him said he just force them to do that. The other part just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

He was led down a bright hall, mirrors lining one side. Lance froze as he caught sight of himself.

His chest and arms were gleaming from the oil while his hair was mused from all of the struggles. His cheeks had been cleaned of tear tracks and shone too with the same oil while his lip looked enlarged and plump from the kisses.

The red jacket was as little cloth as he'd imagined it, really more of two straps cut of at mid chest and left him completely bare. The pants were sheer, leaving almost nothing to the imagination and he felt himself flush at the display. The slaver chuckled. "Beautiful, aren't you?"

Lance let himself be pulled forward once more and closed his eyes so he didn't catch sight of his reflection again.

Beautiful?

Pathetic, more like it.

He couldn't bear to see himself.

They passed through two more halls before they came to a room lined with glass cages.

Cages with people in them.

Lance's eyes widened as he took in the assortment of other soon-to-be-slaves pressed into the completely clear-fronted prisons.

They were on display.

They were being  _sold._

Lance balked as he was pulled past one unit showing a female alien of some species, completely naked save for a slip of cloth wrapped about her hips. She caught his eye and looked quickly away.

No.

No.

This was  _wrong._

But there was little Lance could do as he was thrust into one of the display cases, his lead unclipped, and then the door sealed shut.

The small, small, cage Lance realized as he went to turn around. There was barely enough room for him to pivot, slender as he was, and when he did manage to squeeze around, oiled shoulders assisting, he had maybe a foot on either side of him and nowhere to back up.

He could feel the panic attack starting almost instantly.

Didn't matter that the entire front of the cage was clear and he could see out. He couldn't  _move._

 _Dios,_ was there no end to this nightmare?

He couldn't even sit down, legs trembling beneath him, as there was nowhere for his body to expand. He slumped backwards as much as he could, mirrored surface behind him.

Lance still couldn't hear his breaths but he could feel them growing shallower and dark spots were starting to flicker across his vision.

He needed to get out.

Out out out out out.

He pressed his feet on the front of the cage with as much force as he could muster.

Nothing.

Lance's eyes strung but he had no tears left to shed. He faintly supposed the slaver would be happy about that.

And that made them sting all the more.

He let out a silent scream, despair threatening to drown him as the room seemed to close in.

And then suddenly there was a near blinding light from outside his prison that put the encroaching panic on hold for just a second.

A loud, high pitched beep sounded then, almost like an alarm, and Lance pressed his face against the glass for a better look at what was happening. A large set of doors at the end of the room were opening and aliens were filing in, talking in low, excited murmurs.

Lance realized a second later who they were.

Buyers.

They were there to buy slaves.

To buy  _him._

He couldn't help but watch in horrified wonder as they spread out around the room, aliens of all species and genders but all alike in that they wore refined clothing and walked with an air of superiority.

He shrunk back against his mirrored back wall as a pair of tall, almost lizard-like aliens approached his cage.

What did he do?

Nothing.

He trembled with the realization.

There was nothing he could do.

Part of him wanted to bare his teeth at these aliens who dared even look at him. But he couldn't summon up the anger. Not anymore.

The panic from the small space was starting to set back in again and Lance trembled at it. But he would take the fear over the shame and mortification.

Although, he felt his face heat, as the two lizards were pointing at him, slitted eyes shifting over his form and long tongues flickering, that was easier said than done. He shuddered and wondered what they were saying.

No. He didn't want to know.

The cages were soundproofed so Lance couldn't hear the chatter outside. The only thing he could hear was an insistent beep that seemed to go off every few minutes. He finally was able to track it to a large timer on the ceiling of his cage that displayed a countdown of twenty.

That must be when the exhibition was over and the bidding started.

When he would be  _sold_ as some sort of sex slave.

If he'd had anything left in him to throw up Lance would have.

He tried his best to ignore the aliens that came up to his cage, some even rapping hands or wings or tentacles against it and seeming to enjoy watching him flinch back. He hated that he did.

But it was pretty hard to ignore the large Galran that stopped.

He was both tall and large, pale purple skin on his face giving way to darker, nearly black, almost fur-like tufts that ran along his chin and up the sides of his face to turn into large fuzzy ears.

Pupil less yellow eyes stared at him, highlighted by thick brows of the same dark fur and a single, long fang peeked out over purple lips.

The Galran held up his arm and although Lance could not hear it he saw a tiny flash.

A camera?

The Galran had just taken his picture.

That…

That could not be good.

But maybe, and a weird hope fluttered in his chest, if the Galran bought him and Lance announced he was a Paladin… maybe they'd interrogate him instead instead of the other things he was sure the other buyers wanted with him. They would demand information and–

And there would be nothing to tell, even if he had wanted to (and he would  _never_ betray his family like that).

Because everyone would be  _dead._

The Paladins of Voltron weren't such a threat when they weren't alive, now were they?

A dry sob tore out of him.

Maybe they'd grant him mercy and let him join them. He didn't deserve to live after he'd kill them.

He didn't  _want_ to live that way.

And dying… dying was better than whatever any of these other aliens wanted from him.

That he did know.

He wouldn't…

He wouldn't be  _used_ like that again.

Even though he knew, really, he no longer had a choice in the matter.

His stomach swam again.

He glanced back up as the Galran left and his eyes widened as he noticed one distinct, missing detail.

This Galran was not wearing the Empire's sigil.

He wasn't a soldier. He was just… just like the rest of the aliens here.

And just like that his hope of being interrogated to death disintegrated.

There were no alliances here. Even if they let Lance speak and proclaim he was a Paladin of Voltron, he had the sick feeling that would only make his value increase. These people… they did not care about the fate of the world. The wealthy did not have to care.

They just enjoyed.

The remainder of the timer was a slow, slow countdown. Lance spent it counting the ticks. Anything else and he would go to pieces and while he no longer cared what anyone thought of him he didn't want to give into that panic.

Not yet.

When the twenty dobashes came to an end Lance's cage did not spring open like he had been hoping.

Instead, the large alarm beeped and that seemed to be a signal for the buyers as they all meandered away from the cages and towards the center of the room where a platform had been raised and large, plush chairs procured in rows.

Oh.

That was the auction.

He got to see the auction.

He did not want to see it.

And yet he couldn't help but watch as they led the first slave out, the female alien he had locked eyes on. The slaver joined her on the platform, sick leer that Lance could make out even from the distance, and his hands landed possessively on her bare shoulders and he could see the audience getting excited.

Lance could not hear the words but he didn't have to. He saw the way the slaver turned auctioneer grabbed at her, showing her off to the crowd. A few of them he invited onto stage and they took her into their hands and claws, forced kisses upon her and then clearly laughed when she cried.

The bidding started then, numbers flashing above the platform as the audience keyed in bids. Four hundred and fifty thousand GAC later she was being led off stage by the rock-alien, shoulders slumped and shaking.

Lance turned his head, unable to watch anymore.

Time moved both too fast and too slow. He had nothing to distract himself with from the impending fate, from the claustrophobia rearing in on all sides.

He just wanted to sit down and cry but he couldn't even do that.

The only thing letting him know the passing of time was the timer in his prison, resetting itself to twenty dobashes every time a new slave was pulled up onto stage.

There had been eight beeps.

Eight slaves sold.

Number nine was him.

The beep was different that time and that was the only warning Lance got as he looked up at the deeper sound and came face-to-face with the rock alien, who seemed to be the slaver's own personal acquisition.

The glass lowered in front of him but before Lance could even think to move – and really, go where? – the lead was being clipped to his collar and he was dragged forward. And despite how terrifying the display case was, Lance dug his feet in in one last attempt to not leave it.

Because it was safe compared to what awaited him out there.

"My newest acquisition," he heard the slaver say as he was fruitlessly pulled forward. "I trust you can see his… quality for your own eyes."

And out here in the room the catcalls, the actual leering was audible and Lance flinched at the sound, determinedly keeping his eyes down.

He didn't want to see.

It wasn't happening if he didn't see it.

He was hauled up the short flight of steps and heard the leash being secured to the decorative pole in the center of the stage.

Quiet footsteps then and cold hands descended from behind on his shoulders. He hated that he winced but kept his head firmly down and eyes shut tight.

Not happening.

This wasn't happening.

"As you can see," the slaver's hands trailed down to rest on his upper arms before they disappeared behind his back, "he is quite the exotic specimen. He is also," a tap on the side of his neck, "a bit mouthy, if you catch my drift. But let me tell you, it is quite a mouth."

Laughter then from the crowd and Lance felt his cheeks heat.

A hand landed in his hair and jerked his head up. Still, he kept his eyes closed.

This wasn't happening.

"The collar will of course come with. If you'd like to hear him scream, he will be only too happy to oblige." The other hand caressed his face. "It is sure to be a most delicious sound."

"What's wrong with its eyes?" called out a voice from the crowd.

"Nothing, I assure you. Someone is just a little shy, hm?" The audience laughed again. "Come now," and the thumb rubbed at his cheekbone. "Let's see those pretty blues of yours."

That seemed to excite the crowd but Lance refused to open his eyes to see the reaction.

No.

Even if it was for something as trivial as this he wasn't going to–

The collar around his neck activated.

Lance let out a silent scream and this time collapsed to his knees, unable to fully fall over though as the chain tying him to the pole was too short.

The crowd screamed themselves.

"Come now," the hand was back on his face. "Open your eyes for the nice buyers. Or I will continue this," another lightning shock pulsed through him, "until you do."

Three shocks later and trembling on the edge of consciousness Lance thought maybe it was about to be over. But there was a sharp sting in his neck then and his nerves flared with a new type of fire, the haziness vanishing in an instant.

No.

Oh no.

"He is clearly not broken yet, but I do know some of you may enjoy such a challenge," the slaver's voice seemed to echo from above him. "I will of course throw in some of my patented adrenaline shots with his sale for… training."

The voice came closer then and Lance felt hot breath against his face. "Now open those eyes for us, hm? Or we will keep on."

And  _Dios_ help him, Lance lifted his lashes, the white of the stage swimming to view.

His head was jerked up then and he had no choice but to look out over the audience, flinching back at the sheer lust and possessiveness emanating from them. A few moments later he was pulled back to standing, shaking legs barely supporting him, and closed his eyes again.

Please just…

Just let him have this.

He didn't want to see.

"Now, for the rest," the slave continued as though there had been no delay. "Toned physique, very agreeable to the eye. But the real prize…"

Lance gasped as the man's hand was suddenly down the front of his pants and the audience was on their feet, shouting and screaming.

"Is right here," the slaver continued, fondling Lance while he felt his face go from flaming red to ghost white and he jerked backwards to no avail, the grip only tightening.

_Dios._

When would this be over?

"As always, it's a look but no touch policy until he's yours. I will of course invite a volunteer to give their assessment on some of his other features for you lovely, generous people."

There must have been some type of consensus as a moment later the hand left after one final stroke and a new set of footsteps, clawed ones, sounded on the stage.

Lance's eyes betrayed him and they opened to see one of the lizard aliens from earlier standing in front of him, beady eyes alight. Sharp claws gripped his shoulders and dragged Lance forward.

Lance knew what was going to happen.

He still wasn't ready.

The alien pressed harsh, scaled lips to his own and then bit down hard when Lance refused to return the kiss.

His body acted reflexively, mouth opening at the pain, and a long, thin forked tongue worked its way inside.

And then down.

And down more.

Lance choked as he was pushed to his knees as the alien overpowered him, its tongue literally in his throat while somehow it was still ravaging his lips and hands were sliding up and down over his chest and sides, leaving thin scratches in their wake.

He couldn't breathe.

 _Dios,_ he couldn't breathe.

All he could do was whine and choke around the tongue, but that seemed to please the alien if the furious movement was any indication.

He was released a few moments later and Lance sagged forward as far as he could, coughing and trembling.

His stomach heaved but there was nothing there to expel and it only made him gag more, still feeling like something was down his throat.

"And now let us begin the bidding," the slaver said. "So that one of you may enjoy this all to yourself. Starting us off at one hundred thousand GAC…"

Lance heard the aliens bidding then, a wide host of voices calling out numbers that climbed higher and higher. He felt sick listening to them, shuddering every time they seemed to pause and the slaver called out for a final bid.

Because when it ended…

When the numbers were finally closed out…

He was going to be someone's property.

"And six hundred and twenty thousand, going once," he heard the slaver call out, "going twice."

"Six hundred and fifty," rumbled a deep voice and Lance heard the voice that had been pushing his price up curse.

"And six hundred and fifty thousand, quite a sum, going once… going twice…"

No one else spoke and with a final, gleeful, "And sold!" Lance's last moment as a human, as a Paladin, came to a grinding halt as he became a slave, an object instead.

His shoulders shook.

He heard the chain being unhooked and then he was being dragged forward on his knees, unable to stand even if he'd wanted to, and then off the stage with a few painful thumps.

He didn't even know who he'd been sold to.

The rock-alien ended up at one point grabbing Lance by his hair and lifting him as though he weighed nothing. Despite how not being able to see made his stomach roll as he was carried in such a fashion, Lance kept his eyes firmly closed.

Somehow, this still wasn't happening.

Somehow, he was going to wake up in the castle and this was going to be a horrible, horrible nightmare. He would be safe in bed, his family would be healthy and whole and–

Lance was dropped unceremoniously to the ground and he curled up immediately on his side, finding what little comfort he could. He had no idea if he'd be allowed to ever be in such a position to do so again.

Through his side he could feel vibrations below him and realized he was on a ship, engine already running.

They didn't waste any time it seemed.

A heavy hand patted his head. "Be goodie now purty bluesies."

The loud steps faded away and a door slammed shut. He felt the vibrations increase and a moment later they were airborne.

Not even a chance for an escape.

New footsteps sounded then and Lance kept his eyes shut tight, pressing his chin against his chest. He didn't want to see who had bought him.

Hands descended on his shoulders and trailed down his arms and he stiffened. Already?

They were going to start so soon?

But to his shock the hands did not linger and instead he heard the cuffs keeping his wrists bound unlock.

He tensed.

What was this?

"Speak," the low voice rumbled.

Lance felt the word unlock whatever the collar was but he did not say anything. He instead carefully shifted his freed arms around to his front and curled them up against his stomach.

The alien did not stop him.

He didn't say anything and no hands touched him.

Confusion and curiosity won out against his desire to not yet face reality and Lance peeked open his eyes.

And saw the large Galran looking back.

The two stared at one another, yellow and blue eyes locked. Lance swallowed thickly.

What… what did this mean?

"My superior commanded me to purchase you," the Galran said after a few moments, face strangely… sympathetic?

What was going on?

"He also told me," the Galran's voice turned softer, "to inform you that your team is safe."

Lance blinked.

Team?

Safe?

He jerked upright so suddenly he nearly toppled right back over as vertigo kicked in.

"You're…" his voice sounded awful, a mere rasp, but Lance plowed forward, hope, real hope, making him shaky. "You're a… a Bl-Blade?"

The Galran inclined his head. "I work undercover amongst the wealthy elite. There is much to be gleaned from them. However," his face darkened, "there is much horror to see as well. You were fortunate, Paladin, that your face was in our database of allies. When I informed my superior of your presence he ordered me to secure you while he checked in with the rest of Voltron. They were found gravely ill but medicine was administered in time."

Lance felt like he'd been sucker-punched, but with absolute relief instead of horror.

They were okay.

They were okay.

His eyes stung with unshed tears and he hiccupped out a sob.

They were alive.

And he…

He…

Another fullbody sob and he wrapped his arms about himself in a hug.

The Galran looked at him for a moment and disappeared into the cockpit of the ship. He returned a moment later, a large gray blanket in hand. Without words he approached Lance and gently draped it over him, pulling the folds around and tucking them under his arms.

Lance shook harder.

"I am sorry for what you suffered," the Blade said quietly. "But now is not the time to fall into despair. The universe needs you, Paladin."

He pressed a large, almost fatherly hand against the top of Lance's head and Lance leaned into it, drawing comfort from the first kind touch he'd felt since this nightmare had begun.

"We have three varga until we reach your team," his voice turned harder but still, Lance could hear the kindness. "Take that time as you need. But when you leave this ship you must once more be a Paladin of Voltron. Do you understand?"

Lance managed a nod and the Galran returned it. He moved away then back into the cockpit and left Lance alone in the privacy of the cargo bay.

Lance huddled deeper inside the blanket, head bowed and eyes glassy.

Three hours?

In three hours time he knew he needed to somehow pull himself together. Pretend that what had happened… had never happened. He was fine. He was strong. He was a Paladin of Voltron and so he needed to be okay.

But right now?

Right now, for the next three hours, he was just Lance. And Lance was a scared, hurt and horrified human boy.

He pulled the blanket tighter, curled up on his side and hid his face from the world.

And for three hours Lance cried.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So. This happened. *also hides face* Fic was a commission for the lovely jaspurrlock with the prompt of Lance being captured with a chase, slave trade and some less than appropriate behavior at said slave-trade with a bittersweet/sad ending (I made it mostly bittersweet, okay? I needed a rescue xD) I went a little (cough, a lot) further than I intended to from our discussions but, well… I'm just going to go stick my face back into the ground now. Jas, I do hope you enjoyed it ♥
> 
> If you enjoyed it too please drop a comment below! I love to hear what you liked best about the fic; be it an overall impression, a scene, dialogue, etc. Authors love and really appreciate comments for their hard work and you'll make my day if you leave one. Thank you!
> 
> (Want to keep up with my work? Follow me on [Tumblr, icypantherwrites!)](http://www.icypantherwrites.tumblr.com)


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